Of Storms and Leaving
by ChiisanaAnisa
Summary: There was a storm here and it won't leave this room, or her because she hasn't drowned in it yet. LukeLorelai What if breakup? ONESHOT


**Disclaimer: **_I don't own Gilmore Girls._

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**"Of Storms and Leaving"**

**By Chiisana Anisa**

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_"Love counts hours like months, days like years; and every little distance is an entire century."_

_John Dryden_

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He was angry enough to yell at her. Angry enough to feel his whole body shake and see his hands waving around in the air as he fought to bring his sense inside of her insane mind. Lorelai stood across from him, in her bedroom and by her closet holding an expensive red dress with a big cleavage she has bought two weeks ago for his eyes only. And they were supposed to be having a very nice, romantic dinner tonight.

Instead they were fighting. And to Lorelai this wasn't just one of those fights, one of their fights where they would bark at each other and literally kiss and make up only ten minutes after it. This fight didn't get to leave a bittersweet taste in her, bitter because it happened at the first place, and sweet because it would bring her (and him) pleasure afterwards.

This fight had her tired and almost in ruins, leaving her almost speechless and without any funny comments to back-fire. It has taken a far more serious tone than she had intended, and the dress she was holding felt to her like a block of brigs weighting her down to the floor and into losing. For a moment she almost missed what Luke said next.

"And you're not listening to me again Lorelai! I'm tired of trying and I've had just about enough of it!" Lorelai blinked once at him, saw his eyes lit with an almost righteous rage and saw his shoulders in that position she usually loved. In a position when he was fighting for something very dear to him. But why was he doing it now..?

"Why Luke?" She managed to squeeze out, little sparks of sanity still in her brain and some cords of comprehension slowly building inside too.

Luke brought his hands down, dropped them like someone would a ragged doll, and took a deep breath. He sighed, turning his back to her briefly while he turned around to sit down in the armchair next to the window, just as the rain started falling signaling that there was a storm ahead.

"Why Lorelai?" He dragged out slowly, and there was an edge to his voice that made it seem harsh and broken, like he was dragging the words across shattered glass. "Because you don't love me." He finally said and Lorelai's world pulled to a stop.

Stupidly Lorelai continued on with staring at him, feeling the freezing start from her toes and upwards. _What...? _She asked in her head, puzzled and lost. _What did he say? _He was wrong, where did he get that idea she started ranting in the secluded corners of her mind, whisperings of pro's and con's, and some very far off reference to a movie she has seen not so long ago also mingled somewhere up there, but she didn't have one normal response for his bold accusation.

She gripped the dress tighter in her hold, felt her nails digging into the fabric, through it and into her palms, and willed herself to remain as calm as possible. Was he the only one trying here? Most certainly not, she argued with herself, and settled on proving himself that much.

"Oh Gods.. Luke. No, no." She started and at that he bent his head down, and she was sure that his eyes were now staring holes into her bedroom floor. But he was wrong, and he had to knew that. He knew her, didn't he?

"I do love you, Luke. Believe me, I do." She finally said it, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, one hand reaching out to grip the knob of the closet doors. Luke nodded his head away, gave a small bitter laugh and raised his head to look her dead in the eyes. Lorelai was thrown down by the forlorn look in these blue eyes she loved so much. But she proved him wrong, didn't she?

"Yes, you do. But you're not _in love_ with me. And that's just it Lorelai."

And Lorelai could feel the pricks, the first sings of tears somewhere in back-pockets of her eyes, she felt the words sink in her skin and melt them there to mingle with her blood and become the very essence of her. Because she didn't prove him wrong and after all...

He knew her all too well.

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Lorelai sits up in her bed, her eyes still misted from the dream that occupied her brain moments ago, and she rubs them rather fiercely, because that was one dream she never wishes to dream again. Because in that dream, she and Luke are no more together and he leaves. The worst part is that she just lets him do so and does nothing at all to stop him. She slightly shudders from the coldness that very scene brings and pushes off the sheet away from her body.

Her legs are weak when she stands up and she stays still for a moment to gather strength. It's funny how often this repeats, she thinks, and suddenly she realizes that her dream wasn't just a dream. Luke really isn't here anymore, at least not for her. She squeezes her eyes shut to will the pictures away and with shaking hands she picks up the bathrobe from the chair and wraps it around herself, that coldness still nested underneath her skin.

With groggy steps she floats downstairs, passes the living room and wanders into the kitchen only to find it empty, but quickly finds herself filling the pot for her morning coffee. She smiles briefly, sadly, after it's done, before pouring it into her favorite cup and almost hazardly swallowing more than necessary. It burns her inside but she struggles to neglect the sensation, for it brings her more than few steps closer to being fully awake. And warmer.

Once again rubbing her eyes, with her free hand, she ventures towards Rory's room and opens it carefully, but finds herself almost stunned with the sight of an empty room. _Where is Rory, _she thinks, and it takes her a few long seconds to remember that it's still Thursday and that Rory's coming home tomorrow.

Suddenly angry at herself and a bit maybe at Rory she sticks her tongue at the bedroom and closes the doors, deciding that maybe it would be the best to get dressed and go to the Dragonfly before Sookie (or Michael) calls to remind her not to be late again. In half an hour she finds herself in her car and on her way there.

She knows that she can't really recall what she exactly did the last thirty minutes, but larger worries are pressing on her mind so she pushes that one far in the back to figure it out later.

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It a crazy house when she enters. Michael is muttering something in French under his chin, and struggling with a quite large stack of papers in his hands, but she doesn't really want to come any closer because it really is too early to get her head bitten of (and in French no less) for something she probably didn't do or yet has to.

She chooses to visit on Sookie and on her way to the kitchen out of the corner of her eye she catches Kirk outside struggling with the horse, for some odd reason she can't remember the name. She, out of all the people, because she is the one that usually names things, not just animals. She blinks once when Kirk goes off almost flying into the bushes behind him and giggles.

Lorelai is brought out of her fit when the crazy and rather high voice of Sookie carries towards her on the morning air when someone exits the kitchen.

"... You! Get your hands..."

That is all she catches so she hurries in. She looks around and then shakes her head, pressing one hand to the bridge of her nose. She drags out. "Sookie..."

The lady in questions squeals her name, and reaches her hopping for some reason unknown to Lorelai, (yet), and grabs her arms so she is forced to hop with her best friend. Sookie is bearing a large smile on her face and it's only a questions of time when she'll tell Lorelai why she's so happy.

"You wouldn't guess in a million years what happened today!" Sookie says excitedly and stops with the hoping. Lorelai thanks the God, if there is a God somewhere up there, she's not entirely sure if he is, maybe there is someone up there who likes to torture her constantly, and every other person on the planet. Maybe that's someone who she knew in her past life and that someone holds a big grudge against her, maybe it's her Grandmother...? Maybe..

"Lorelai?" Sookie asks when she notices how Lorelai's eyes have gone glazed, and it's obvious that her mind is somewhere far off. As usual. Sookie giggles before pinching Lorelai's arm.

"Ouch! What did you do that for, you evil lady?" Lorelai cries, rubbing her arm, knowing that the mark will be red for sometime after, but grins nonetheless.

"You weren't listening to me." Sookie says, turning away from her and walking with hasty steps to the stove. She plays with it, around it and Lorelai leaves her be, deciding that another cup of coffee will do her good.

"I'm listening now, sorry." Sookie raises her eyes towards Lorelai, smiling. "Well, we're booked for the entire week, I'll have you know."

Lorelai catches her breath on the first sip. "What! Why didn't you call me, you know I hate knowing things as the last one, and after all I _am_ the partner here, sweety, you know I should know these things.."

In the time of her rambling her best friend approaches her and puts her small arm across her mouth to stop it from running. "I tried to, but your phone was disconnected and you turned off your cell phone."

Lorelai averts her eyes somewhat guilty, and pulls away. "Well, yeah, I couldn't sleep and to make sure I could sleep enough to function I removed all the things that could stop me from doing so, you know. I turned off everything that could possibly make noise, loud enough to wake me up. Except Shaggy, my alarm."

"You have an alarm?" Sookie asks as if Lorelai told her that she has discovered the ninth wonder of the world, eight being the television, of course. Lorelai throws her a half angry, half smiling look and nods. "Yes, I do have to wake up somehow. That's what alarm clocks are for."

Lorelai thinks that it isn't necessary to say that the alarm is a leftover from Luke's and that she just keeps is as a sad reminder how fast the time can pass you by.

Sookie crumbles her face slightly, and nods. "Shaggy?" She says, when a bubble of laughter starts forming in her throat.

Lorelai sighs sadly and takes the cup in her hands, walking to the doors. "Don't ask." It's clipped when she says it, and it obviously has that tone when she doesn't want or except any other questions. When she has already placed her hand against the door, she can hear Sookie's voice drifting to her.

"Honey?" Lorelai turns her head just enough to look at her friend over the shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Lorelai concludes that it is the best not to start anything by answering so she just nods, too quickly and leaves the kitchen. Sookie's smile slips off her chubby face and she shakes her head at the closing doors.

"I'll take that as a no."

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He was there only because Tom said that something needed to be fixed and that he couldn't do it by himself, and needed his help. Otherwise he wouldn't be caught dead in here. And he managed to pull it out of Tom that Lorelai wasn't still in, so he breathed deeply when he finally finished repairing, or rather adjusting doors on the second floor and stood up, dusting his hands of on his trousers.

With a few swift movements he packed his stuff and ventured down, and he would have been already gone if it wasn't for one woman standing in the hall across from him, talking on the phone. Luke cursed his bad luck, touching his cap lightly and tipping it more downward onto his face. He felt somewhat angry for believing that she wouldn't be here, after all - this is her Inn.

Letting himself have a moment of weakness he raised his eyes to see her after so long, and to try to convince himself that she's as beautiful as she was and just as radiant. But that wasn't the case, sadly, and Luke found out that he blamed her for not being what he wanted her to be..

Her mom finally decided that she should hang up and Lorelai was only vaguely aware that she has done the same. She takes two steps forward and suddenly that numbing coldness comes back into her, slamming it's way in and settling like a sinking ship.

Lorelai feels out of breath and tries to breathe in as deeply as she can, turning her head to the left, her slightly tired eyes going straight through the open doors and outside where she can see the new group of tourists coming in. There's people all around her and the room is full of movements.

But she stands still, and everything comes to her in a slow motion like when you freeze the picture on the tape. An unknown hand grips at her suffering heart and she can feel the tearing begin, she can hear it crack and open up even more. Gingerly she wraps her arms around herself in an awkward hug, trying desperately to keep it all together and in one piece - her mind, heart, body and soul.

To the point of blackness in her eyes she is also painfully aware that she just isn't strong enough to do all of it alone, so she just grips her armpits tighter and freezes completely off, shuts out the motions and the world all around her. She doesn't have to really see to know what this is, and although she should be happy because this is usually a good point sometimes, she isn't.

Because this is just the calm before the storm.

And of course, standing there, she doesn't even notice one man with a blue baseball cap and dark blue eyes observing her. She doesn't see the knowing suspicion in his eyes of what she feels in that exact moment, nor his regret and pain that this time he simply can't do anything to help her, because he has lost that special privilege two weeks ago.

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The rest of the morning goes by rather boringly, after she has chewed out Michael for not telling her about the booked out week, and she doesn't listen to him trying to reason with her, actually aware that she vented out on him just because he was close and because she had a point. Well, she didn't exactly, or maybe she did, she's not so sure these days if she's always entitled to be right about everything.

She has certainly thought so before but time and someone proved her differently, and now Lorelai, who was a self called Queen of Righteousness, doubts herself and her decisions more than ever. When she slumps down in her leather chair she can feel the strength of preservation leaving her rapidly and her shoulders sink down, and tiredness fills her inside out. Rory's face flashes in front of her eyes and she thinks, no, she wishes that her sweet daughter were here instead somewhere off in Europe with her mother.

But Rory isn't here, unfortunately and she needs to carry this weight on her own. But because her shoulders are already down, and it seems to her as if they are spent, not weighted down, she turns her head, leaning it on the back of the chair, to the window and the world outside. It's a bright, sun-shiny day out there, but in this room... There is storm that started exactly two weeks ago and isn't willing to leave.

Why?

Because she is that storm. And it won't leave this room, or her because she hasn't drowned in it yet.

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Luke was a practical guy. He knows it. Everybody in this bloody town knows that. When he says that he will do something he would do it, sometimes with some complaints and sometimes without them. And now, when he knows that he has to do the most difficult thing in his life he ever promised to do, even if it was just on a whim and out off irritation, he finds himself unable to comprehend the situation that is laid out before him.

With his eyes unseeing he turns his head to the street outside and watches numbly people pass by. He can hear the doors of the diner closing and opening, but right now he doesn't see the people. His mind is clouded by the illusions of a life he should of had and of a life he will be forced to lead.

A swirl of dark brown hair on the corner of the street pulls his attention and he blinks once to clear his eyes, allowing them to settle on the particular back of an particular lady. His gaze follows her steps, walking further and further away from him and can't help but ask himself if she will be able to do the same for him soon.

And then he's startled out of his thoughts by the hand in front of his eyes and Luke blinks once more to bring himself back to reality. Almost instantly he lets out a grunt at the person standing there before he recalls that this time he called him to come.

He turns on his heels and starts walking to the stairs that lead up to his apartment. With annoyance he looks back and barks out. "After me, Taylor."

And Taylor follows, and then they are upstairs. Luke points to the chair and Taylor observes it warily, not so sure if he should sit down.

"I didn't fix it to break when you sit down, Taylor." Luke drags out and Talyor finally sits down, shrugging his shoulders.

"Well, Luke, what do you need me for?" Taylor asks, with a gleam in his eyes that is starting to nerve Luke, just like it always did. And what he's about to do is for sure one thing to bring Taylor either under the ground from happiness or either pull out the smallest bit of compassion.

This is a hard thing to do. "I'm leaving." He more whispers, then he says as an announcement.

"What?" Taylor questions with his left eyebrow rising up. "What do you mean - you're leaving?"

Already feeling the strain, Luke sighs and sits across from the man that makes the devil in him come out. "Like I said - I'm leaving. I'm leaving the town and not just for two days, one week, I'm leaving and I'm not coming back." Somehow, Luke is not sure how, he manages to say all of that without having his voice crack in the middle.

"Why?" And there comes the question he's afraid of.

"Because I'm tired and I need to get out of here before this town kills me. However, I called you because I want the dinner to keep running in the memory of my father, and I want you to do it."

Taylor is looking at him as if he has suddenly grown two heads, his mouth gaping like a fish. "I don't get it, Luke. This must be a joke you're pulling off just to have a good laugh later. I don't have time for this," he goes on, raising from the chair and already half way to the door.

"Dammit Taylor!" Luke yells, slamming his hand against the surface, and ignores the little prickle's of pain. "You know that you would be the last one to be asked something like this, but I don't want anyone else to know! I'm leaving, and if you would not be so self-centered maybe you would know why. And I'm not joking!" Here he stops his rapid rant, pulling up and tries to calm his nerves down.

Taylor turns around, something unrecognizable on his face, an expression Luke has never seen before, and it disturbs him to know that Taylor can have any other expression than his usual ones. "All right, Luke. I'll do what you ask of me... I'll come back this afternoon to talk more, now I have something else to do." And all of it is said with an under-tone of some strange regret and some other emotion Luke can't detect right now.

"After eight, Taylor. After eight."

Taylor nods and grabbing the doorknob turns once again to look at Luke. "And I'm not so ignorant as you may think. And also I don't think that your silly promise it all that is making you leave." Then he's gone, the doors still closing slowly after his retreating figure. Luke stares at the place where Taylor stood just seconds ago before ripping his eyes away from that space.

He knows, the thought crosses Luke's mind and this time he can't help but feeling beaten down in a fight he didn't even start. He slumps down in the chair, taking his head in his shaking hands and draws a ragged breath in and out of the shell of man he once was. _Well_, he thinks, _now I have only one more thing to do._

With that he stands up again, although he can taste the taste of loss pouring through his skin, and blocks the feeling of dread that's stabbing him somewhere inside.

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She couldn't hold out the storm anymore so she just leaves the Inn to Sookie and Michael, fleeting out of there, but forgetting that the storm is following her and that she brings it along wherever she goes.

Rory just called to say that she's not coming back this weekend because she and Emily decided to prolong their trip in Venice. She's a bit disappointed because of that, but glad that her baby is having fun, to some extent. However Lorelai can't help but blame Rory for leaving her alone now when she probably needs her more than ever, and on the other hand the voice in her mind tells her it's for the better if Rory doesn't see her like this.

With great effort Lorelai walks into the kitchen, dragging her legs over the floor and with drunken movements she starts pulling out her frozen dinner out of the fridge. Then she reconsiders and puts it all back, quickly than needed and spills the juice right in front of the fridge. Frowning she pushes the cloth under the table over the spilled juice, not caring that it will probably stick to the floor and make it like she's walking over jam.

Something nags her at the back of her mind, something that she has probably forgotten and she turns her look outside only to find her driveway empty. _Didn't I drive back? _- she questions herself, because she knows and is sure that she took the jeep to work this morning. Once again she can't exactly remember what she did in the last hour and this time it bothers her. She should know, why doesn't she?

Lorelai closes her eyes, and knows very well that running from it will not save her. This two weeks have her outside in and inside out to the world and it's no wonder that she's so out of it that she can't remember certain things. And suddenly like a wave washing over her the pictures of that terrible memory flash in front of her eyes and she stumbles.

Bumping into the table behind her she turns around and the food on the table looks alien to her and completely grosses her out, so with trembling hands she starts putting it away, again, quickly and almost not thinking she just throws empty plate into the fridge and half empty bottle of juice into the cupboard. She doesn't notice the mistakes she makes, the pictures and the words ringing in her head are too loud and too bright for her to see or hear anything else.

Only when she hits the corner of the stove with her hip, Lorelai notices how hasty her movements were, and for some unknown reason she feels as if she is being watched, observed by someone, by some strange inquiring eyes that follow her everywhere she goes and judge her. She is moving this way, unexpectedly fast, because she feels so trapped, and she needs to escape. Anywhere.

She forgets the fact that she's in her kitchen and that she is completely alone in the house. Turning around in the blink of an eye she grabs the dish from the table and props herself on her toes; she's tall but not that tall to reach the cabinet where this dish belongs. The fingers of her right hand reach out for the blue salad cup to move it away, lift it, so she could place the one she held in her left hand in. But then her fingers go slack in her right hand and the cup falls through the space, right on the corner of the cabinet she was standing by.

By fear the other hand loses strength and before she knows it both the cup and the preserving dish are lying shattered all around her.

She blinks stupidly for a moment, her eyes observing the damage. The dish is only split in half, but the salad cup... It's broken in so many pieces that they are literally covering the kitchen floor, because on the impact it broke in the air and then they all flew away from her. She compares the dish and the cup and she can't help but notice the irony.

She is the cup... this pieces all around her are actually pieces of herself, so broken and so tiny that they are beyond repair. But she knows all too well who the dish is supposed to be, and it isn't that funny to her. At all. It isn't fair. Ironic, but not fair. She sighs with realization and sinks to her knees, almost not noticing that the tears are already flowing.

Lorelai leans her back on the cabinet, and closes her eyes because she doesn't want to see herself so broken all over the kitchen. A small sob escapes her and she would have gone into a full crying spree if it wasn't for one strong and smooth voice that called out her name. One very male, very missed voice.

"Lorelai! Oh my God, Lorelai..." She opens her eyes to look up and at him, through the mist of tears and she just shrugs, not completely able to speak yet. "What happened?" He asks her, taking off his cap, worry written on his face. She blanked at him for a second before opening her mouth.

"I broke it." He turned hastily to her, and his eyes widened in wonder. In two steps he was kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in his own. "You're bleeding, Lorelai." He informed her, but to her it sounded like he was judging her, his tone didn't quite match the look on his face and she averted her eyes downwards to look at her hands.

Indeed, there are scratches on her arms, she didn't even feel them. Some are very small and only grazing her skin, but on her right hand there is one big gash, and she is bleeding far too much than she should have. Her eyes observe the red water dripping down on her trousers, mesmerized.

Luke watched her carefully, perplexed by her calm manner, but she wasn't calm, not at all. In fact he recognized this mode of her. She was just... he averted his eyes and looked around the kitchen, looking for a right word. The pieces of the ceramics gave it to him. She looked broken. Exasperation filled him, and then soon anger more for himself than for her, so he pulled her up, standing up himself and dragged her after him into the truck, intent on bringing her to the hospital.

He could've take care of her injuries but the larger gash needed proper medical attention. So, they found themselves in the ER soon after and a nurse was cleaning her arms, her wounds. When the doctors asked her later what happened, for the papers, she just sighed, and looked at the doctor, her eyes baring a haunted look.

"I broke it." She repeated the sentence from the kitchen, and Luke was well aware that she was still in some far of space of hers. But then she looked at him, over the doctors shoulder and their eyes connected. Now, there was something in her eyes he couldn't quite read, but when she said the next sentence he wished he had never met Lorelai in his life.

"I broke them."

And the reason he came doesn't come up until they are back at her house, the storm now following them both like a good breed puppy would follow its owner.

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"I'm leaving. Tomorrow."

His voice floats to her ears and Lorelai drops the jacket on the couch, not watching where it lands. "What?"

Luke can't help but feel as if his entire conversation with Taylor is going to repeat. "I said - I'm leaving the town, and I'm not coming back."

He can see how quickly her eyes glazed over and knows she still cares, well she always did, but it's too late for him. For them to make it work.

"But Luke, why..? Oh." She starts and stops, pauses and breakes into pieces all over again..

He's leaving because of her, because of them and because of that silly promise he made to Taylor. _Wasn't that supposed to be just a joke, _she thinks, but in the deepest recesses of her mind the voice of the pain that collected there in this two weeks whispers it's the best for him to go and leave her alone.

That other voice who desperately wants to keep him here, whispers back that she should do something to stop him. Lorelai listens to neither of the voices. Instead she just goes on with the staring at the man who means to her more than any man ever did, more than he'll ever know, because she keeps all the important things to herself, like a snake who is hiding her legs.

Luke watches Lorelai struggle within and with his franatic mind he wants to reach out and pull her inside and in his world, just like he wanted that night when they were over and done with each other.

"Luke, are you sure?" She asks him, but that's not what she wanted to ask. And that's not what he wanted to hear. Scared to say something, anything else right now, he just nods.

"Good..." She squeezes out, one hand nervously going through her hair. "Then this is - goodbye?"

Luke averts his eyes from her face, he can't stand seeing her no more and searches for something else to keep his eyes occupied long enough until they are done talking. "Yes, the dinner is going to Taylor, he'll keep it running... And I'm sorry I won't get to see Rory, and I'm sorry that I'm..." He would have said that he's sorry for leaving her, really.

But Lorelai throws herself into his frame, and his hands on instinct circle around her form, his chin settles on her shoulder and he inhales the very fragrance of her. He shouldn't be doing this, but it's been so long since he held her for the last time... That is, until he remembers that this is the last time. Forever.

Lorelai on her side catches the fabric of his shirt in her hands, almost digging her fingernails into his back, like she's trying to pull him down, to rout him to the earth so he won't be able to leave. But she knows that she's not allowed to do that, because two broken people don't deserve to stay together, even more when they managed to break each other.

Luke grazes her temple softly with his lips, the pulls away harshly from her, leaving her cold and cheated. The smallest whisper of goodbye reaches her cofused and exhausted mind before she can hear the click of the doors closing after him.

She does think that they could have given each other another chance to be happy, and she does think that maybe she needs to walk after him, to try to assure him that he is more than wrong, that he's way more than wrong. You know? Ally McBeal skinny thing wrong?

But all in the same she doesn't. And even when she wishes to leave the spot she's standing in, when her consciousness whispers to her that it's time to go, still she can feel something much deeper within her forcing her to over-think the entire situation all over again, to try to see it from the guidelines and not as someone who is standing in the middle of it. To try and open her eyes again and see without the blinds on. Just like she has been doing for the past two weeks.

So somehow, she's still not sure why, when it comes to relationships with men, she just as always stays on the beginners side of the doors, her hand just a breath away from the knob, not quite touching it. And because of that whisper inside she pulls her hand back as if the touch will burn her palm first and then start spreading until it would consume her whole. She just stares at the doors.

Then slowly, mournfully, she looks away, averts her eyes to all the space behind her and allows her blue orb's to caress the familiar things of her life.

And sadly, every piece of furniture, every decoration holds a memory, hateful or dear and she feels in that brief moment of looking as if she's reliving her life. Although that brings her to tears, most of the time, she is one hundred percent sure that she smiles altogether in the same.

So she stands there unseeing until day turns into night filled with regret and a tangible sense of dread, because she knows she stayed once again, that she just wasn't brave and lucid enough to ignore the imaginary burning and just grab that exit out of this place that will bring her pain and suffering. She finds herself wistful for the night to turn back into day, to turn back time and give herself that much needed chance of an escape.

She is wistful to open that doors and run after him, to stop him from going away and leaving her behind forever. She's not crying anymore, because her tears have long gone dry, but that terrible touch of loss has now for the very last time settled in the very center of what she is.

She finally turns around fully and walks slowly with tired and exhausted steps upstairs, only to lie on the bed they shared not so long ago, buries her head in his pillow and inhales his essence. She know very well that she's torturing herself like this and she knows she'll be doing it long after this day passes. Because until today she wished to know what falling felt like, and now that she is falling she regrets ever knowing it.

She doesn't want this love, this kind of painful falling in love, if falling in love is like this.

Alone.

And the storm sticks around, even if she knows very well that she won't drown in it, at least not yet. But as the storm has patience so it decides to wait for the next best opportunity to catch her unprepared. Lorelai on the sane level of her mind thinks that she won't give that chance to the destroying storm, but on the insane level of her mind she can't help but wonder if she wasn't already under the water and that this just might be what people call floating...

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**AN:**_ Well... This is the story I mentioned in my first Gilmore Girls one-shot that I waswriting. It's written and done now as you can see (meaning that it is a ONE-SHOT; no sequels) , although not yet proof-read because I'm still waiting for my dear Jamie to send it back; but I just wanted to post it and see if any of you guys and girls managed to catch anything that didn't quite fit in well. I, myself have that nagging suspicion that I messed up somewhere but just don't seem to get where._

_So, this first - I haven't watched the Gilmore Girls no further than till the end of the Fourth Season, so I don't really know if there is any mention of this promise the Luke or Lorelai have to leave the town due to it's economy or what else. I'm aware that this was probably Taylor's joke, (or I picked it up in some crazed fanfiction) but I thought to myself - **what if?** Just what if. I hope I pulled it off to some extent._

_On the further note this was heavily inspired by **"Of Trees, Diner Men, and Breaking" **by** Princess Twilite**. If you didn't read it till now, go and enjoy, for I find it a true piece of art. I used a somewhat similar theme - with the storm, you'll get the point when you read it, or if you have already read it then you know what I'm talking about._

_This will be of course, updated again, for I'm sure that I have many grammar mistakes, spelling too. Don't tell me about it, I know. I'd just like to know whether you liked this or not, and if possible - why?_

_Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. Love,_

_Chiisana Anisa_


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